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146 out a word, while the children prepared for home-going with a subdued air of having assisted at some solemn rite.

When Mistress Mary went out on the steps, a little later, he was still there.

"It is the last time! Auf wiedersehen!" he said.

"Auf wiedersehen," she answered gently, giving him her hand.

"Have you no Thanksgiving sermon for me?" he asked, holding her fingers lingeringly. "No child in all your flock needs it so much."

"Yes," said Mary, her eyes falling, for a moment, beneath his earnest gaze; but suddenly she lifted them again as she said bravely, "I have a sermon, but it is one with a trumpet-call, and little balm in it. 'Unto whomsoever anything is given, of him something shall be required.'"

When he reached the corner of the street he stopped, but instead of glancing four ways, as usual, he looked back at the porch where Mistress Mary stood. She carried Jenny Baker, a rosy sprig of babyhood, in the lovely curve of her arm; Bobby Baxter clasped her neck from behind in a strangling embrace, Johnny and Meg and Billy